You do not know me
by Kumori Kasei
Summary: Snake and Meryl are two soldiers who thought they were lovers...but what are they really? And whatever it is between them, will it last? Meeting on the battlefield yet again, will it be as friends or enemies? Or perhaps something entirely different?
1. Moving on to the start

**Nov. 2006**

_They say that heroes will never be forgotten - and that they will never die._

Meryl Silverburgh felt that annoying trail of thoughts, yet again intent on driving her insane, it seemed. She actually believed in that once, the whole hero thing. She huffed, leaning over in her seat to peek out of the bus' window. They'd just passed the birches and the creek past the old school; not too far from here, she noted, yet growing increasingly impatient by the second.

It was far from a long time ago that her once so unyielding beliefs, started to make her second guess the realities. _Was_ he really a hero? He may have saved her life once, but for his own sake or someone else's? And in any case, was this action in itself enough to deem him heroic? Saving a world, perhaps...No, most definitely.

To her terror she saw his intense, bright eyes before her and she barely managed to suppress the weakest of sighs.

She'd stolen glances of those windows of his soul whenever there had been a moment, when she thought he might not notice. Psychotherapy in order to destroy any romantic/sexual attraction in men or not, Snake was a fantastically handsome man and regrettably not even her tomboyish self had been able to fully ignore that fact. The intervals between her eyes shamelessly dancing precariously up and down his taut muscles started far in between, but grew ever more indelicate. She got heedless, since she no longer cared in the end, whether or not her attraction to him would be discovered.

Because of that unmistakable, implicit tension yet perfect equilibrium between them, for once and the first time she decided for her feelings not to be in disguise. Out in the open rather, exposed, painfully laid bare before someone of such importance to her that he could easily crush that most frail part of her within a few moments.

_It is far from difficult, _she thought as her eyes passively skimmed over the outside that the bus drove past. Treetops, people's heads, blonde and brown curls and the glowing residue of rain interlaced into a blurry mess barely too close for comfort.

_No, I get it. It's practically impossible. We train ourselves our entire lives, not to show any signs of weakness, not even to the ones we suppose we love. So when we're expected to completely bare ourselves, open up, pull out our hearts and place it in a stranger's hands, that scares the shit out of us. Why wouldn't it? It's the sickest gamble I've ever heard of._

But the odds had been in her favor. She knew that he did love her, back when all of that still mattered. And now it was simply all part of a past that was long gone.

The bus came to a sudden halt at her stop, and though Meryl was firmly seated at the back of the bus, she could've sworn there was a feeling of her thoughts jolting and flying through the roof. She dropped down from the steps, on the trail besides the road and watched, bemused, as the bus left her close to her apartment, but far from the sense of content she had when she was still riding in the back of it.

Nothing else to do, but to start walking.

It was chilly out; the rain was still in the air, but it was humid without any heat. It was one of those days when you just had to wonder if the sun was still in the sky. When she a bit stupidly lifted her head, she glared daggers at the sky. Of course it was _still there_...

_The sun in the sky, the moon at night. Some things never change. _

She was still here in this world as well, though she'd had some close calls. As was her biological father and Snake, though both seemed somewhat lost to her. One due to her own stupidity, the other for how he had lied to her and for her own sake he had to be kept at distance. It was mere safety, she thought bitterly, necessary precautions. A wall around her, so she would never be let down again, at least not without having done everything to protect herself. No one was going to get to her without going through her metaphorical moat.

_Didn't moats during the medieval times sometimes have snakes in them?_

She screwed up her face with grit teeth, almost violently unlocked her door and flung it open. It nearly hit her dog, and the siberian huskie made a startled jump backwards, simultaneously barking at her in protest.

Unperturbed by her puppy's indignant barks, she made a beeline for the couch and flopped down on it, shoes and jacket still attached.

Yet another day like this, in the hands of a past, in the memories of events that she couldn't change. It had been putting a strain on her for months, but only now was she physically and mentally feeling the fallout of her inability to simply push aside and move on. Sleep was a rare treat, almost never enjoyed more than a few hours uninterrupted. Her eyes had bags, dark circles and her head felt as if it was barely still attached to her body.

She needed -_desperately-_ to find something that could awaken her and channel her focus onto things that had nothing to do with_ him_, up from this damned hole, this sinking ship of self-pity and retrogression. A dull sigh escaped her barely parted lips, but she stiffened and shook with faux disbelief as she inhaled.

The auburn pillow she was currently face-planting had, apart from a smell of wet fur another familiar scent to it.

It _reeked_ of him.

She fell asleep that evening, remembering everything she'd hoped would finally have been forgotten. It was all still there in the back of her mind and when she woke up, she would see the same puffy face in her mirror, the never changing blueprints of regret and her eyes staring back at her with the tears she fought so hard to keep from escaping.

* * *

It was possible that, maybe, if he tried to pretend that he was devoid of any feelings and that he had no fears, even he might believe in something that was such an obvious lie. Snake growled with annoyance that was directed at nothing in particular, although if mirrors had feelings, it might have taken offence at his apparent disgruntlement. Surveying his reflection with bored eyes, he dismissed it with a snarl as if that very mirror was the root of all of his problems.

Yet what he tried to rid himself of still spoke to him. Vibrant and enticing red locks that were playfully bouncing around a mask of porcelain, guided his gaze toward an open mouth, lips barely parted and waiting for him to crush down upon them -always with the same delicate, baited breath that held within it everything he had ever wanted.

_Either she lived, or she died. Whichever it'd be; it wouldn't matter. _

He repeated the sentence out loud, similar to during his brief imprisonment on Shadow Moses.

But just exactly _how_had that mantra helped him in the past? He thought it over for a second, even with the answer readily on his mind.

It was the sole foundation of everything he'd been taught as a soldier, and therefore he was forced to believe in it for the sake of his sanity. Despite its falsehood he always assured himself it was a mandatory mindset in order to survive. Eventually, he had no other choice but to believe, like it was a religion passed on to him through tradition that he dared not to question. What _if_, after all, it was never a trance of imagination? He had been wrong before.

His hand hovered over the sink nearly comical with impending doom; with what mostly resembled a well-placed judo chop he shut closed the faucet and cut off the stream of piping hot water. He finished his clean-up by dapping his freshly shaved jaw-line with a washcloth. Occasionally he took a half-glance into the mirror in order to peak behind him, to survey his surroundings. His biceps and stomach muscles tightened and he threw the damp cloth in the laundry basket. Old habits…

He opened the door, right as he felt someone watch him from across the hallway.

"I've thought it over, Snake". The scientist corrected his posture, upon the mercenary emerging. It was nothing like the usual, nervous habit of pushing up his frames. Snake raised his eyebrows faintly.

"I really think I've got it." A smile; though strained and littered with the ghosts of a night of coffee and second-hand smoke, it was genuinely jovial.

Snake dragged a lazy hand through his brown locks. "Well?"

"Philanthropy! I know," he began, gesturing with his hands as he explained with eagerness. "It's simple, but-"

"It's perfect." Snake interrupted.

Suddenly he was by Otacon's side. He placed two firm hands on his shoulders, offering him a thin smile.

_"To let the world be." _

Both men smiled in unison, before embracing each other warmly.


	2. Convincing a snake

**Sep. 2008**

"I told you I wouldn't be needing that."

Second hand smoke filled the largest room of the yet tiniest apartment there had to be in the entire States of America. Snake, with an emotionless expression printed on his face, had positioned himself so that he could stare into the eyes of his superior right on the other side of the table. It was a casual and strangely home-like setting for a meeting of such importance as this one. However, as annoying Snake found the cosiness, he had to admit to himself that he would much prefer this to being "carried off by goons from his home in the middle of the goddamned night".

He grunted by the quick, nostalgic flashback of his latest encounter with foxhound.

A woman's nervous blue eyes flickered from the sight of a frowning Snake, to steal a glimpse of the commander's face, reading his expression and firm nod as reassurance. Which was fine, she thought, but didn't help her handling Snake in any way at all. She cleared her throat, tried to smile faintly, but ended up failing miserabely. Snake wathced in awe and felt his arm twitch with distrust, as she grabbed it, and let her syringe close in on the skin on his forearm. "Won't hurt, I promise. Well not really that much for someone like you, that is." Snake could almost see her bite her lip even though her head was tilted downwards to look at his veins, "kicking" them with her slender middle finger. He could see faint traces of scars running along his arms, not even knowing they were there. Somehow he didn't really have enough time to count all of the scars he'd gotten during his time as a soldier, and it seemed pointless as well, since it wouldn't help the least to make them dissapear.

_"I said_; I won't be needing that, lady."

"Snake, just let her do her job. We don't have the time for all of this, I need you in the field within 3 hours. There's no time to argue, no time for chit-chat or hitting on my staff." He added, following the mercenary's line of sight. Snake snarled. "Meryl, let's get this over with, you know what's at stake here."

"Her name's _Meryl_? Is that your idea of _irony_? You've read my file, you know damn well that-_ow_! _Damn_!" Rubbing his sore forearm and gritting his teeth, he stared intensly into the colonel's eyes, not on purpose though. Solid Snake just had those eyes, piercing and intense even though he didn't mean them to be. Tension was building up within Snake's system and he wasn't going to put a lid on it this time.

"The name's Thom. You can call me that for the time being. No need to be so stiff, we're not being monitored out here. This is off the record Snake. Just for you, to ensure your safety." It was very hard to miss that at the end of that sentence, the words were being spat out of the colonels mouth. This man was obviously not too fond of people like Snake, or let's just say, Snake himself.

"David Hitachi, codename Solid Snake, DOB - 08/30/72, 36 years old, haircolor brown, eyes blue-green, height 6.2', weight 188."

"Spot on." He lit a cigarette: malboro. "And if you tell me not to smoke in my own damn apartment, I'll kill you. So tell me; what's this all about?"

Thom shifted in his chair. He spoke with a serious voice, his eyes trained on David as if he tried to get across just how serious the whole thing was.

"There was a nuclear bomb that blew the hell out of an island of the coast of Greenland last Thursday. No casualties except 2 civillians who were on that island for some reason..."

"Why '_some reason'_. Is it a military base?"

"Not officially. No one's even supposed to know there's an island there. Let's just say that if this little incident hadn't happened, even I wouldn't have known about it. I was just briefed an hour ago."

"Well that's fucking nice to know. Say, be honest and tell me; did you really volunteer for all of this?"

"What do you think?" He smiled at Snake, leaving him with an answer clear as day.

Another puff, smoke being inhaled, and two very cold irises staring down colonel at colonel Thom Barlow. Snake exhaled the smoke, letting it creep out of his mouth like smoky tentacles .

"I think you're a fucking pawn. Just like the rest of the old guys down there," he said. Though he sounded tougher than usual, his eyes avoided the colonel's. "I'm not doing it, Thom. And you know it."

Thom leaned back into his chair, not knowing what method of persuation would do best in this mans case. He'd met soldiers as tough as they'd get, but this one seemed to be a step ahead of everything in his surroundings, in such a way that could not be achieved, even from the most intense military training. He didn't like Snake, not one bit. It had been one hell of an argument when he was put in charge of this whole deal, and when he was asked to pull out Snake for the dirty work, he had spent several hours locked up in his office at home, his own wife afraid to bother him after trying to bring him coffee once and getting literally thrown out for trying to unlock the door.

"That's colonel to you. Show some respect. " He complained, obviously forgetting the friendly offer he had previously made.

Snake smirked, just enough for colonel Barlow to notice. Not more than that.

"Earn it."

Barlow stood up, surprisingly swiftly for a man his age Snake noted, yet he had a tired look painted on his face. He didn't like the way the man walked so calmly away from him to look out the kitchen's only window, facing the streets, which were a good five floors below. He spoke to Snake with calmness in his voice.

"What's the story between you and Meryl? The real one," He added, knowing what was written in the files and that it was as untrue as the fact that the mercenary he was trying to convince aid him in this mission, was supposed to be six-feet under. "I'm not interested in cute little love-stories, just tell me what happened."

The silence was so thick in the air and Snake felt his face grow warm with a mixture of irritation and surrender. His private life had been invaded, though certainly not for the first time, why not let them have this as well, this piece of him that he had already lost, along with her? The only question was_ why_-

"Is this really relevant to the mission?" Snake slurred. On instinct he grabbed the empty syringe left on the table next to the young woman. _"Tell me you didn't drug me..." _She lowered her gaze, intimidated by his hissing. Furiously, she shook her head.

_"Snake..."_

"We both came to the conclusion...that she left me." He said as softly as his pride would allow him to. He did see the joke in his sentence, but neither him nor Barlow laughed, not even cracked a smile. The silence grew even thicker, now pressing so hard that he felt it squeeze his insides flat. He lit another smoke. It would be ideal if one could become sick with cancer and die from it in 5 seconds. _And I'm only half-kidding._

"Figured as much. . I'm surprised a young one like her even looked in your direction. She must've felt lonely and vulnerable, and then a legend like_ you _shows up, _dazzling_ her with your..."moves". What was she, 18? Young girls are easily swept off their feet...especially by, dark, tall and mysterious types. But she left you as soon as she saw how you only attracted problems, chaos, turbulence that you couldn't keep out of your own, let alone _her_ life. Clever girl."

In his own head, he saw himself run up to Barlow and give him one to the stomach before he would force an apology out of him. Either that, or he'd break the window with his face. Instead, he sighed, put out the cigarette and threw the butt into the sink from his chair.

"I'll do it."


	3. Far away from home

Disclaimer: I do not own Metal Gear Solid or any of the original characters in it.

Well, this was going to be longer, but I wanted more of the story uploaded as quick as possible, to get people to know that I'm really going to continue this story on a re- erh, somewhat almost, regular basis...Or something similar to that, hehe :) Short, but with loads of interesting new questions (the readers will be asking themselves). Enjoy, and I'm so sorry for any possible spelling/grammatical mistakes, I've known fluent english since I was 14, but since then I've also tried learning japanese and swedish, which has made me mix a lot of different languages together...well, onto the fourth chapter!

* * *

She'd been through a lot. Seriously: a lot. Eating raw eggs and crapping her pants to stay warm out in Russia in 2007, were only a few horrifying examples.

"And who'd ever forget the raw maggots..." She flinched and put on an extremely exaggerated grimace in horror. "The fucking raw maggots."

Yeah, "a lot" wasn't quite enough to describe that experience. They say that each and every little thing that you have to go through as a soldier strengthens you, and gives you something valueable you can always keep in mind for future challenges. But hell...

"This is worse than the maggots. By far." She wanted to say that camly, but got mad when she found herself spitting it out, not able to keep a lid on her . She blinked some moist away from her eyes and cursed slightly, the wind was starting to catch up with her walk now, and it wasn't helping her; the direction she was headed obviously wasn't the way the wind was going, and it seemed to be telling her to turn around. It picked up sand, and hurled it into her flinching face. As a result of this, her eyes were shut tight and she were starting to worry more and more about the direction she took. How many minutes exactly had passed since she last checked her compass? Or hours...rather...

Hands swiftly searching through her 74lbs heavy gear, she soon found it. It didn't take her long to find out that her fears were confirmed; she had been into a slightly wrong direction for at least the last 25 minutes of walk. Scowling and strapping on her gear to her back again, Meryl Silverburgh started, hopefully, to march off into the right direction.

The suffocating heat of the Kavir desert had turned into a contrasting cold, not exactly freezing to the bone yet, but she had been on desert ops before, and very well knew that the welcoming dusk breeze that embraced ones tired flesh after a long days effort, was merely an intro to a freezing cold. The nanomachines did theirs, sure. But while they were mostly a counter measure for hypothermia itself, the sensation and depth of the extreme temperatures could still very well be felt.

She had tossed her gear into the sand, having found shelter in a small cave-like group of rocks. The possibility of snakes had made her worringly stare with a flashlight in her hand into the cave, looking thoroughly time after time. There were no snakes. Not quite able to rest at that, she still accepted it, being a soldier, and of course, a woman with a bit too much pride for her own good, sometimes. She made a fire, settled into her sleeping bag (checking for spiders and other nasty bugs first, cursing herself for being such a girl) and the sleepyness hit her almost immediately. It felt as if someone had knocked her unconscious with a frying pan, flat on her face. Strangely enough, her body found a warm, satisfying comfort in that feeling, and finally rested.

* * *

The sun was rising. She woke up just before it had fully emerged from the horison, and didn't give herself time to yawn the last bits of sleepiness away. "Finally." she almost cursed, and ran a hand through her messy hair, getting rid of some of the sand. She tapped the button of her codec at the beginning of her jawline.

"14-87?" A man answered,

"Yeah, it's me. I'm at the extraction point."

"Excellent work" one could clearly hear the smile on the mans face shining through his voice. He was thrilled. "I'll send out a team for you right away. You'll get to rest for 6 hours, then I will personally de-brief you."

Meryl flinched. A personal debriefing from him really wasn't a thing she was looking forward to. Well not speaking of sexual harrasments or something like that. He was just way to enthusiastic for her, a woman who had just spent 48 hours trying to locate an _envelope _in a freaking _desert..._Being a soldier sure wasn't blazing guns and battlecries half the time. And she wanted it, the action, feeling disgust tuck her moral sleeve. Yup, she sure wanted it. Maybe even being shot "_God forbid it," _she softly spoke to herself in her head, but she was lying to herself. Even that would thrill her. Just imagine Snake's face when...

"Snake!"

She had no idea that she had shouted out her ex-boyfriends codename loud on her codec, as she was too deep into her own thoughts by now, to hear her commander praise her and speak of the people who longed to meet her when she got back, and that he was glad she was safe. There was an echo in her head, the name ringing clearly like a word highly cherised, though she pretended so hard to despise it. "_No, hell, I _do _despise it.". _

_"14-87!" _

"Oh! Yeah! Sorry, I'm here, just got distracted by this...you know there was a bird and it ate a gigantic...nevermind" Damn. She hated herself for being such a pathetic liar, and God so crappy. This moment certainly wasn't the first time she felt horribly inadequate as a soldier. Her commander switched to a much more serious and deep voice, a little bit irritated that he didn't know how long she had been spacing out for. He hated being ignored.

"Well, well done. I expect you to go to that place we were talking about before operation _Kaviren? _Now that you've done such a _splendid _job on _Kaviren, _I'm absolutely positive you'll get this mission as well."

"Yes sir." She answered. "I'm happy that I've earned your trust."

She then disconnected, lit a cigarette while facing away from the rather harsh wind, crouching to get the lighter going, rose again with beams of the desert sun bathing her face. She had gotten such a tanned face from her time in the desert, and a lightly weatherbeaten face, but she liked it, never really enjoying the look of a porcelaine doll with flaming red hair. _"Snake liked it that way." _

She squinted her eyes, shading herself from the sun. She suddenly weren't as sure as before; that the maggots really was going to be the worst ever.


	4. Happy birthday pt 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Metal Gear Solid or any of the original characters in it.

"Snake here, do you read me?"

"Loud and clear, Snake."

"Great" He grit his teeth before continuing. "It's like hell froze over out here. Why the delay with the nanomachines? I thought they were in that shot you gave me".

Barlow laughed, and Snake's mood reached a new low. "Ah, but they were. They're just, well, as you said: delayed. For a very good reason."

Snake frowned and took a good glance at his surroundings to ensure his safety. "Which is?"

A long lasting silence ensued, and Snake almost thought he had been disconnected from the line, and he was about to get beyond pissed.

"There's a new program available to the terrorists. It makes it rather simple for them to set up a perimeter, which has a border that will trigger an alarm, if you have alien nanomachines in your blood. All nanomachines are detectable, and we have yet to find a way to properly conceal our nanomachines from this new technology. We lost two soldiers on an OP just last week because of that _crap_."

Snake cursed and disconnected having gotten what he wanted, but he was soon called again.

"Thom, I know what the hell I'm doing out here, stop _calling_ me or I'll be spotted. If these guys are half as good as you said they were..." His hairs stood up from his neck and he twisted his upper body a perfect 180°. All clear.

"So you do _not _want to know about their elite unit, who has just recieved information about your arrival, I hear."

"_What?" _He stopped in his tracks, hid behind a barrel and pulled out his gun. "Information was leaked?"

"Seems like it," A tone in his voice indicated that he did not care much at all, getting Snake _very_ concearned. How was this not important to the success of the assignment?

"You need to proceed with caution. There are only 3 of those elite units, but combined they have the skills of a hundred soldiers combined"

_'Great' _Snake supported his head with one, restless hand. Not only had he quite possibly been severely compromized by some random double-crosser; he had to take care of people who actually really knew what they were doing.

"Manami, Akagi and Kocchi."

Snake frowned. "_Japanese?" _He peeped out from the barrel. 2 sentries, patrolling the area, carrying what looked like M4s.

"By nicknames, yes. They're Americans. You won't see them alone, they always work in a unit of three; tracker, attacker and defender. Manami stalks and watches with extreme stealth, Akagi fiercely attacks and Kocchi defends them both, making it nearly impossible to counterattack. Snake...just watch your back out there, alright?"

"Got it."

He disconnected, staring out from his position again, running out as he saw the path was clear. The barrel of his weapon was precariously trained straight down his hip as he trotted down the path that would lead him to his goal.

* * *

**"5:30 AM."**

There was no mistaking the green-glowing numbers on the alarm-clock standing on her nighttable. Her body felt positively exhausted and she longed for rest, yet she just couldn't seem to properly fall asleep. It had been a long day to say the least, and an even longer night. Apparently, forcing what felt like gallons of vodka down, wasn't at all as hard as she'd imagined. Perhaps she needed it? Getting filled with alcohol until she could barely move or think. Pushing herself out on that dancefloor with strangers who stared at places on her bodies she'd very carefully tried to tone down...punching them and staggering home, barely able to keep her eyes open, maybe these things, these incredibely stupid actions, everyone her age did that, right? So why the hell did it feel so wrong?

She shifted in her bed, punching her pillow and throwing her head back down on it, not at all pleased. The pillow wasn't the problem. She then suddenly realised something.

It had been her birthday for more than 5 hours now. The fact was, she was only 21, but it felt a lot more like she was turning 80.

Still unable to sleep, she suddenly felt a strange, tempting urge to punch herself. It was far from the first time, and normally she would leave it at that, but obviously doing everything you normally wouldn't do was part of being as drunk as a sailor. It took about a minute for her to feel how much it actually hurt, and when she did, and flinched with a little sob, she dragged herself out in the bathroom. She didn't bother to turn on the lights, and fumbling with her hands, drunk in the blackness, she took a tumble. She stumbled over her shoes that she had left there along with her clothes from last night, which she had hastily torn off and forgotten about. She cursed and grit her teeth, grabbing her hurting foot. Out of the blue, tears appeared in her eyes, and she understood clearly it had nothing to do with her foot or the throbbing in her face, the feeling of her fist connecting with her nose still lingering like a warm circle of pain.

Snake had brought her out to drink once, it was before they were a couple, in fact they had not even kissed yet. Some found it strange, but to them it seemed almost impossible to give into such a basic desire. One minute, you stand there, gun in your hand and with everything to lose, most likely your life. During such a time, a kiss was nothing compared to the fate soldiers like them could be meeting. But after the fights, after the pain, the melancholy and fear, it was much, much harder to give in to such a feeling as love. Strangely enough, standing beside him felt like being miles apart, unlike when on a mission, where she felt like they were melted together and when they felt more alive, more like one than ever before.

She recalled the warm fuzzy feeling of a sweet memory in her head, loving it with longing as she cried a bit more with every second passing. He wasn't a regular at that place, small and cozy with purple candlelights in every corner, glowing in the otherwise dark room, the light licking the baroque-inspired wallpaper like loving, yellow tongues. But to drinking, he was just that. She wasn't legal at that time, and he had not at all tried to push anything on her, just looked at her with "You can do what you want, I'll help you out" written in his scarily understanding eyes, when she had made the suggestion. Her father bore that same look, but with much less honesty. Dave's face surely often lied, trained to do so, and he did with superb skill, but his eyes spoke more than the truth. They were pieces of glass, shining attractively, pulling her into him and telling her things he most likely didn't even know about himself. He had no idea. Meryl smiled faintly and felt the moist of her tears slithering into the corners of her mouth. She fell completely into that memory now, leaning down with her hands planted at the cold floor.

She was glowing with the fact that she was extremely uncomfortable, wearing a black halterneck top, leaving little to one's fantasy, and a brown, pleated plaid miniskirt. She was bold that day, wanting to try out things she had half despised, half dreamed about. She knew it was mostly because of the man, who was right behind her, but not even his presence was enough to calm her down. David was looking so casual, yet stylish and God, so hot. His brown hair had turned into a mullet, and he had got himself a stubby face, which suited him so surprisingly well. His skin, especially his face was radiant, such a huge contrast to when he was on a mission. He was wearing black pants and a plain, white shirt, underneath his brown, leather jacket. He entered right after her, but seeing her stop in her tracks he smiled, grabbed her by her shoulders and leaned in to whisper "don't worry, I'll handle it".

She watched the 34-old, with a look of being insulted on her face, as he took off his jacket, walking up to the bartender as if he lived there, saying a few words to him that she couldn't hear. At first, the bartender shook his head, pointing towards the door and she, feeling overwhelmed with shame, started walking towards it. However, David called her back, and she, reluctantly, turned around and walked up to him, not looking at the bartender. "Ok? Just for tonight. Thanks." When she looked at David, her eyes wide, he looked as if he avoided her gaze on purpose. He held a glass in his hand, drinking from it. By the smell of it, she guessed whiskey, the one thing she knew how looked and absolutely hated. Soft, jazzy music was playing and a womans husky voice sang words of love and complications; Meryl found that strange, since her perception of these places were that, it was a shelter for middle-aged men, not wanting to be confronted with demanding wives and certainly not love. "Don't you want anything?"

She looked up at him, blushing when she saw him, how his eyes paid her all of his attention He was beyond sexy, tempting and he seemed so out of her league, in so many ways that it nearly made her close her eyes in self-disgust. He was perfect.

"Yeah," she nearly whispered, and she cleared her throat. "White wine...please."

She must've ordered something stupid, she thought to herself, as she could faintly see David's lips creep into a smile while he drank more of his disgusting, ochre colored drink. He then pulled out a cigarette, asking her to light it, but she laughed. "I told you to quit, and you ask me to light it? God grief, David." she snickered and so did he. She drank a little of her wine, wishing dearly that it had been pepsi. "Meryl. How're you ever going to handle heavier stuff when you can't drink wine without looking like you've bitten a lemon?"

"Well excuse me, mister hardened veteran" she said scornfully, making him look at her in such a way that she for a second or two, forgot completely what she was about to say. "You know, if I was used to this, there would be something seriously wrong. I'm-" she was seconds away from saying "only 19 goddamnit", but chose not to, after stealing a glimpse of the bartender. He was listening in, trying to disguise his interest in them and their conversation by intensely cleaning glasses.

"He knows", David face was blank, as he was staring down at his glass, rotating his glass with his hand. "Your dad here took care of that."

"You...my-what? You did what?" She whispered that, but David still hushed her. "Don't worry, there are loads of other places we can go to, I never come here anyway. Only reason I chose this place, was because I hate it, and I was pretty sure this was coming."

That made her feel stupid, how obvious was that? Feeling a firm hand clasping hers, where the bartender could not see, she blushed, and quickly turned her face from both her "daddy" and the growingly suspicious bartender. "There's just one downside to that." He continued, his voice trailing off. She pretended to wonder what that was, but was pretty sure she knew what he meant. She moved closer to him.

"Thanks for doing that for me." She said softly, her voice almost too low for David to hear. "If he calls the police-"

"He won't. Trust me." He put on an one of those expressions that was impossible for her to read, but she did as he told her to, for once.

"How're O- Hal doing?" She wanted to get a conversation going; just sitting there, staring, well that wasn't what she wanted to do. She didn't want to bore David, no, the best she knew was when she made him look interested, wanting to talk and look at her, spend time in her company. It made her feel wanted. Desired. Needed.

"He's just fine. He keeps talking about this new program that he has to track, you know what. Supposedly it uh- saves more...rim. Or rom. Yeah, something like that." He grinned "I have no idea what he's talking about 80 percent of the time he's talking, because 60 percent of the time it's about computers and the last 20 percent is about animé."

Meryl laughed, perhaps a little too loud, but she hated keeping a lid on herself and ignored the bartender, now, walking off behind the curtain covering the backside of the bar. "I like him."

David's smile vanished a little and he spoke with a stronger voice. "Yeah, me too. He's a great guy."

Meryl finished off the last drops of her wine, trying to keep a straight face, but failed. Dave laughed.

How could he be so beautiful? Without thinking, she leaned forward, biting her lower lip as she locked her eyes into his irises.

"Snake" She whispered, as silent as ever. He looked more than surprised, she had used his codename, and he'd so strictly told her not to. But the way she said it, the word ringing with affection...he looked at her lips from where the words had emerged, wanting to touch them so that he could keep the feeling stored in his fingertips forever.

She remembered that night so clearly, she found it strange that she could have been as drunk as Snake said. They had walked into another bar that night, and lastly stopped by at Hal's apartment, warmly greeted by his smile, followed by tons of liqour and laughter. She remembered how Snake and Hal had been laughing and joking, and when she had felt the most like she didn't excist, she walked off into the kitchen.

She grabbed a glass from the top drawer, with much effort, sighing as she filled it with cold water from the faucet. She drank it, feeling much less dizzy already.

The door was opened with some force, and into the kitchen came David, looking pissed. "Damn Otacon, knows all the goddamned answers for the questions in Trivia Pursuit". Meryl smiled heartily. They used Trivia Pursuit as a drinking game, each time a question was answered correctly the other had to knock back a shot of tequila. But Dave didn't stand a chance, even less when drunk. She knew he could take a lot of alcohol, and she had never seen him really being drunk before. He didn't stagger at all, neither did he sway, he stood perfectly still and had control of his body's movements, but his eyes, as always, gave him away.

"You've played that game once to many times, and you always read the cards sideways." He sat himself down on chair, and she leaned in over the kitchen table, cleaning it with a rag. "You give yourself away when you're drunk."

He stiffened, his hand instantely reaching for his chin, and he touched it like he was pondering heavily over something, but he remained silent.

"It's your eyes." Her smile grew larger. He grabbed her arm, and it was so swift that she gave a little gasp. Was he really drunk at all? She looked into his eyes and her smile grew a bit fainter. Yup, most definitely drunk.

"Otacon doesn't look into my eyes the same way you do. I know how well you look into me and find all those feelings I'm trying so damn hard to hide. It's not my eyes Meryl. It's _you_ who know how to read people," he explained. "You're too good at it, it scares me like hell, I wanna run out of the room everytime you do that little trick. You read me so damn well, it's completely unbearable."

What the hell? What was this sudden honesty, so straightforward and blunt? It was so shocking to her that she didn't even her Hal entering the room, nor his slightly shaking voice when he uttered a small "Sorry" then left and closed the door. Snake was looking at her, almost like he was pissed at her now.

"Snake, don't be like that..." she tried pulling her arm from him, but he held her, harder, tougher. His hand was cold as ice, and so were his eyes, though glaced with an emotion she had never seen there before. It frightened her. "Snake, let go, please. Please." But he was far from letting go, when she pleaded him it was like her voice goaded him even further, convincing him it was more than right to hold onto her.

"_Hell_ no. I'll never let go of you, Meryl. I want you."

Why did he have to be so frank? If he at least kept it in his eyes, she could read him like that and pretend she didn't know what he was thinking. But he was spilling it all out now, and he knew she wasn't deaf, god it was unbearable. She was about to plead him again, when he pulled her down to his lips, and engulfed her body and mind in flames, as he kissed her with passion so desired by her, that she almost screamed into his mouth with joy, and filled her eyes with stingy tears of a bliss she had only dared to dream about. His tongue then entered her mouth, as he massaged the back of her neck with his hand, as if he held her head in place to prevent her from breaking off the kiss, and she thought it felt so good it was impossible not to kiss him back, hungrily opening her mouth even more. Her rose from the chair, mouth still locked onto hers. He towered over her, even though she was a tall woman he was even taller. His body closed in on hers, until there were no more inches between them, no more needless space. He broke the kiss suddenly and she was almost flabbergasted, but he brought her into his world again only seconds later with an even deeper kiss. She closed her eyes even tighter, wanting to melt away in his arms until she didn't have to hold up her own body. She'd much prefer it if he would carry her within him forever.

When she pulled away from the last kiss, they were both flushed and felt each others breath tickle their throbbing lips. He had held her by her waist, but hastily let go when she had pulled back, and the thought that she might have done something wrong fell down upon her like a huge rock of regret. Something was wrong, something between them. Something she had done?

"Snake, I-"

But before she could apologize, the man that she wanted no more than to kiss her again, left the room hastily, long before she could blink twice


	5. Happy birthday pt 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Metal Gear Solid or any original characters from the game series.

Chapter 6. I've read some of the previous chapters and I'm certainly far from satisfied with those. I plan on a re-write, possibly editing so that there will be longer but less chapters. I hate critisism, but I seriously need some constructive thoughts! So don't mind my feelings :P

__

She cleared her throat; Hal scuffed.

She'd be chasing after him right now. After Snake. She would. But then...why...

Her legs. The feet attached to them, toes numbed by chilly winds. How to move them? If only she could remember...

The eyes of the Auburn-haired scientist gave her little comfort. They were glazed with an emotion she was pretty sure didn't have a word for it. The crème-chiffon curtains behind him bent submissively to the wind, and covered his arm, though he took no notice, not breaking the stare into her eyes.

What was the point in running? Not just simply running away from things, but _to _them? Why didn't she feel like she could easily _allow _herself to sit back and wait for whatever had to happen? Like showing him that she could hurt too. She could long for something she was too afraid to claim. And then _run _the hell away from it. A trembling hand of hers ran through her hair.

She bid Hal a much too simple farewell; even to her it seemed almost excessively rude. They'd really trespassed on his kindness, or at least she had. She nearly shoved him out of her way to go somewhere, anywhere else than inside of that place. It seemed to her that his eyes measured her, the value of her actions, and now they awaited her next move. Then he would sigh on the inside, knowing to himself that he could handle his best friend so much better.

So she was running again. To something, to Snake, wherever he'd went in his drunken state.

She slammed open the door leading out on the streets. Atmosphere was light. Numerous street lights were lit, but they failed their purpose as the surroundings were nearly pitch-black. Above her, the sky was dotted with very few, twinkling stars; the moon -strangely enough- invisible.

A few blocks away, lived Snake.

__

Dark. Crammed.

The air tightened itself around her throat, and when she reluctantly breathed, the air in her lungs left a mark there- she coughed violently, reaching for support. Her hand clasped something cold; a metal door handle.

Well. So much for sneaking in unnoticed into his apartment. She sucked in her lower lip and soon heard someone, hastily walking towards the door in front of her. It was opened with force. No time to think-

"Whadda ya want?"

Meryl bit her lip, hard. He was still drinking, and impressively enough; still standing. The clear, crystal whiskey glass seemed to contain just that. Whiskey. Again. He knocked it back, and came close to knocking his entire body off its feet as well, but sluggishly, he managed to grab a hold of the doorframe. Angrily, he shot her a look as if to cast the blame of his sudden loss of balance at her.

"Nothing. It was stupid of me to come here anyway." Meryl replied. Her lips began to tremble, but she forced it back before she knew she would be unable to control it. Couldn't start bawling right in front of Snake...

He stared at her for a few unpleasant moments. With his eyes, he framed her body. He looked at the upper right part of her face, left, down to her left foot and finally her right. It looked almost like he was halfway sneering. She drew a long, meditative breath.

There were no obvious reaction in his face, but the sneer had rubbed off completely. Draping the coat she hadn't had time to button around her body, she leaned back, just slightly astonished by his silence. Was he thinking?

A warm, liquid feeling rippled through her spine.

He stared at her for a few unpleasant moments. With his eyes, he framed her body in the way that he looked at it: upper right part of her face, left, down to her left foot and finally her right.

"You're damn straight it was." He staggered; Meryl made a move to go near him, but he raised a hand as a warning for her not to come closer. She flinched and her eyes flickered with uncertainty. Did he mean to strike her?

As if he suddenly realized he'd gotten ahead of himself, he slowly lowered his hand; his mouth slightly open in regret. With a barely audible sigh, his shoulders lowered in relaxation.

An opportunity to get behind his drunken defenses?

"I don't know what to…do. Or say. I'm strange Snake." She locked her eyes with his, tearless but brimming with emotion. "I'm a strange woman. You can't… count on me."

"Are you telling me, not to _count_ on you? Meryl-" His chuckle was much louder than normal, and Meryl fell victim to its tone, mocking her efforts to share her feelings. Something she even had trouble dealing with on her own, honesty towards herself. She had her head bent down in utter desperation now, but she ventured a look at him. He smiled, looking oddly amused.

"I could've used that bit of information a while ago. Like, when we were aiming at people, painting the walls with their brain matter." He took a pause to shut tight his eyes, obviously not untouched by his combat experiences. Who would be anyway? But Meryl felt weak to see, that a man who had been a rock-solid support to her whenever her traumas had resurfaced to haunt her, had his own ghosts to deal with. She'd always known, of course. But she'd never realized it.

She dashed past him, a queasy feeling running through her body as she felt the wind from the door being slammed shut behind her. Chin down, she stood still. Perfectly still.

So, this was going to be it? One of the best evenings of her life, becoming one of the worst and most painful events? So what now? Running home and weeping, her face in a pillow? That'd be just what he wanted, wouldn't it? Him being the stronger one, the one who never needed anything warm, anything soothing from anyone?

Was it that hard to be the one, who came running to her? If only he could embrace her, and not the other way round. If he could just comfort her with his words, instead of letting them hurt her. If…

But there was a slice of merciless common sense, feeling its way through her system as she pondered. She bent her knees, bumping down to sit on the freezing floor of the hallway. She had her legs stretched out.

Snake was Snake. He had an IQ of 185, but was as stubborn as a child. He had the warmest smile, but the coldest of words. He had held her like she had never been hold before, but could kill a human being with his bare hands in less than three seconds. Not only that, but he'd done it so many times, that he denied feeling any guilt anymore. _"It's too late for that, Meryl. Don't ever doubt it. Shit can't be changed anyway. The more thought you give it, the more it eats you."_

A high-pitched sound suddenly bothered her left ear; she tried to shut it out from her trail of thoughts by simply squeezing her eyes shut, tight. The curse of having killed, and not having been killed, huh?

He had gone to bed now. He must have. Meryl, now sitting with her back leaned against his apartment door, cradled her knees and let out a quiet sigh.

"I love you. You idiot."

Her hand came quickly towards her forehead and it rested there for a short moment, before she let it slide up, messing up her bangs. She had surprised herself with just how loudly that sentence came out of her mouth, but maybe that was just tiredness instead of a stroke of sudden honesty. She was never honest to herself; she would never be either, she was sure of that somehow.

She didn't quite get what happened next, or why she suddenly laid on her back, half of her body inside of the drunk mercenary's apartment. And it was exactly _his_ white face, perplex and eyes huge with taking all of her in, that she stared up at. Of course, later she'd realized he had been standing there the whole time, listening to whether or not that confused little girl would just leave him the hell alone. But he'd heard something. Something he didn't except to ever hear from her, or anyone else for that matter.

She couldn't help but wonder, as she studied his stunned face. Had he ever been loved? A wound opened itself inside of her it seemed, since the truth was obvious and painful to her.

She wanted to speak all of a sudden. Ruin the moment, just to comfort him, even if it most likely wouldn't reach deep enough into that core of pain of his. If only…

…If only she could reach him…

Her shaking arms stretched up towards him were needless; he had already shared the thought with her long ago. He picked her up with little effort, holding her in his arms even warmer and closer to him than when they'd escaped _that morning, _a short eternity ago.

"If only I'd known you. Before…before _everything." _She rested her head on his shoulder, too tired to continue. But he knew.

He stroke her hair by brushing his cheek softly against hers; it was burning even hotter than his. He hushed her, sounding half-exhausted and half-anxious.

He cradled her even closer, and she was sure that her body could disappear into his at any second. His heart pounded so hard in his chest, hers was starting to pick up on its rhythm. His body had an air of purpose, as if he now knew exactly what to do.

She surprised herself yet again, when she planted her lips on his. He seemed paralyzed at first which made her worry, but only for a short second; he responded by invading her mouth with his tongue, violently. She had to gasp for air as he made her body quiver with an unbearable need for more. She had no intention of protesting this time. Embarrasment and the feeling of not deserving his attention; they'd vanished quicker than a night's snowfall upon a warm, spring morning.

And he gave her more, with a low moan of desire sounding from the back of his throat. Wet kisses, on her lips, cheeks, neck, all hungrily making her feel desperate; The more she received, the more she wanted. She feared slightly that nothing could quench this insanse thirst, but worry was smothered by yet another series of uncontrolled kisses. He caught her mouth, digging his tongue deep. She tasted the whiskey she had smelled previously, the split-seconds before he had kissed her; it was bitter and sweet, much better on his tongue than from any bottle.

Snake had lowered his arms and she had slipped out of his embrace to stand on the floor, her hands resting on his abs. She felt them flex, and another moan escaped from him, louder than the first one. Once again, he took her mouth with his and she feared that she was going to lose herself, as pleasure mingled with fear of something she could not yet identify, and that she would stumble and fall into eternal nothingness.

__

"Meryl?"

A distant voice, muffled by the doors and walls between it and her, called out for her. Her eyes went wide open. She'd fallen asleep, and her loving memory had in fact been a dream. She felt freezing cold, and a quick glance at her hand revealed that she had dozed off for quite some time; the blood between her knuckles had dried long ago. Whoever was calling out for her now knocked on her door, asking her to let him in. She recognized his voice.

Meryl lifted herself promptly and went out in the hallway. Before opening, she hid her fist behind her back. She opened the door, slowly and with her heart's beats accelerating more with every inch she pulled the handle towards her.

"Roy." Her voice broke. _Damn it._

He did not wait for an invitation from his daughter to step inside. She watched him take off a pair of wet, brown shoes. Now she heard it; heavy rain was thundering down on the roof. He set them aside outside of her door. Unbuttoning his drenched coat, he looked at her with a questioning face. His fingers paused, in the middle of undoing the second button.

"What happened?" He nodded at her, his eyes gazing on her arms, or rather, her hand. Meryl discovered that she stood with her left hand, resting on her abdomen, the dried up blood clearly showing. She grit her teeth, silently so that he wouldn't notice. _For crap's sake... _This was getting ridiculous. She'd already set her mind on not letting this man into her life; and here she stood, opening her door to him with no questions asked, and now he was sniffing on the trail to her personal life and her weaker moments.

"Nothing, just-" She rubbed her eyeballs with a pair of sore fists. "What time is it?"

He reached for a pocket watch; she recognized it as a gift her mother had given to him many years ago. It was golden; the chain long and with three spots of dried up paint on it. "Five. You didn't answer my-"

"Five? In the evening? Holy-" She stopped herself, close to making yet another mistake; slipping out the fact that she had been in the bathroom, crying, the passing out with her hand bleeding, then passing out and dreaming of a man who he would never accept having been romantically interested in his daughter. During Shadow Moses, that was one thing, nothing that took place on the battlefield bothered him. He'd say that everything changes there, everyone changes. He would explain to her that Snake had been her senior, a man who could protect her, who had saved her life and risked his own in the process. And for that, she had thought she loved him, which was okay. On the battlefield.

Right here, right now, no guns and not being held captured by terrorist, that was an entirely different matter. Meryl breathed heavily. He would get Snake imprisoned if he ever found out what had happened that night.

"Nevermind. I must've slept for too long. I was so tired. Work, you know?"

"Well-" He shed the jacket off and placed in on radiator, adjusting up the heat degree slightly. "Happy 21st birthday."

She was not surprised with him saying this not facing her. But she thanked him, calling him uncle. She had yet to accept their true biological bonds. He didn't correct her; an air of dissapointment still surrounded him. Had he expected this to be_ the day_? She smiled scornfully.

"That's not why I'm here though, I'm sorry."

"I'm truly surprised."

"It's important, so please hear me out."

"Aren't you going to give me a present?" Meryl laughed. She hoped for it not to be too mocking, but she wanted him to feel hurt. Just a little bit. To her amusement though, he bent down and reached into his soaked khaki coat. What he gave to her, was a small, rectangular package, wrapped in a shimmery light grey colored gift-wrapping. The bow was green. It felt heavy in her hand, but in reality it was light. It was hard and cold.

"Please. You can open it later. I'm sorry, but this is urgent."

For a moment Meryl thought he might go all emotional, hug her and smile while begging her to open it. But after all, that military disciplined side of him, which was just about all that he was made of, showed itself.

They both went inside her livingroom, Roy taking his time to look at her decorations; pictures, furniture, the color of the wallpaper that had changed since his last visit.

"Oh, where's Aibo? I was starting to feel like something was missing. Nothings tried to take a chomp out of my calves yet." He chuckled to himself, taking a seat on her couch. She seated herself a few spaces away from him, arms resting on her legs with her fingers intertwined.

"He ran off a few days ago, haven't come back yet. But he's done it before. He'll be back. Now. Tell me what all the hurry is about."

"I've come here today really because I need your help. I need you to go on a mission. Undercover."

Meryl could hardly take in what she heard. She'd got home from _Dasht-e Kavir, _fighting for survival in temperatures on the bad side of the 100 degrees mark just days ago. On top of that, her solo-infiltration had not gone unnoticed; she had been careless and left a trail of FOXHOUND marked gloves behind. They had been drenched in blood, and she despised the smell. Approximately 10 minutes later, she had 2 attack teams sniffing up her behind. One of those guys had recieved a .50 bullet in his throat from her gun, the other she had just managed to wound before she had to cover, and decided that running was the smartest move. Being home in a cosy New York apartment was surreal, but safe and warm. Meryl did not at all scorn the idea of another assignment, but this _soon? _

"How big is it?"

_Wow, _she thought to herself. _Get out of my mind Snake. I'm beginning to talk like you._

"It could be nothing. Or it could be everything The White House fears most." Roy replied. His words were heavy and spoken at a slow rate. "I can't let you in on the details, but I need you to assume the identity of Madelaine Lovel. She's about your age, a bit shorter though, but it shouldn't be a problem." He reached inside his shirt's pocket, pulling out a miniature polaroid. He threw it down on the table. "Here's what she looks like."

Meryl bit her lip. She did not look at all like her. Meryl had semi-long, flaming red hair. Madelaine was a strawberry blonde, set in low, curly pigtails. Meryl's eyes were sapphire blue, Madelaines eyes were almost black. Her own skintone was normally dark, but the desert had made her tan nicely. Madelaine looked so fair, she might as well have had a blood-related disease.

Yet the resemblance now seemed clearer. Their features: Nose, shape of the eyes, facial shape....scaringly identical.

"And just how are you planning to make this work?" Her fingers searched the picture, pointing at her hair. "Taking me to the beauty parlor, are you? Well, it'd make a nice present for my birthday." She smiled.

"Hair-dye, contacts, anything. We'll turn you into Madelaine. She's the daughter of a nuclear scientist; Jan Lovel. I'm getting to it..." He added, seeing Meryl's growing frown.

"Dr. Lovel has been involved with terrorists before. During Shadow Moses, he worked for Liquid when Dr. Emmerich had a mental breakdown."

Meryl blinked. She had never heard that before.

"Of course, there's no way we can fool Dr. Lovel. But the terrorists..."

"I'm still not getting the plan here." She rubbed her head with one hand. A yawn escaped her mouth, and she put on a weird expression trying to muffle it.

"The group of terrorist which we believe are cooperating with Dr. Lovel, are being asked to take care of her while he works on -well whatever they're planning. We know this from the daughter herself. Apparently, the daddy was convinced his little girl was on his side." He reclined, tiredly "She's to be escorted safely into the US on the same day you're taking her place."

Being taken care of by terrorist? A hell of a lot better than being shot at. But what _if..._

"Weapons and equipment?"

"Permission to bring along one well-concealed gun, standard caliber and one magazine. There's just no way you will ever pass as a civilian, running around with the arsenal you had in Iran."

They both chuckled, for the first time since...well, she could not even remember.

"I'll do it."


	6. So, it's you

She had been warned by various women in her life, that too much temperament was a disease which plagued women, young as well as old. It would create chaos and hysteria, misfortune and a life of depression.

"What a load of bullshit."

Meryl had her legs curled up underneath her, shielding herself a little bit from the cold. A knot tied itself in her stomach when she realized that there were no turning back now. She was on a plane, heading over the Baffin Bay in heavy rain and with a face beyond recognition. Blonde locks, brown eyes. She could not keep from feeling like she had just turned her back on the last bit of self-respect she harbored.

But she was going to do it. For nobody's sake but her own.

In her hands, she cradled her 21st birthday present; a dogtag that had not shone for years.

_'Matt Silverburgh'_

* * *

It did not matter how many times Snake had been held captive, it never quite gave him any sort of extra patience when dealing with that sort of place. It reeked, was dark. Yet; silent. He was not half-naked, for which he was grateful: nanomachines could only do so much and that was not nearly enough. With a snarl on his face, he remembered the cold he had gotten on Shadow Moses.

Thanks to keeping his suit, he was now able to save some calories and plan for his escape on a stomach that did not growl nearly as much as it could have done.

But it was difficult just sitting there waiting simply for time to pass and for opportunities to come by.

He heard a door slam shut, not the one leading to this room though. How long had he been here now? How long since he had lost his momentum in that jump over the ledge? Miracously, there had been time for him to make a split-decision in his unfortunate fall and land on his feet with no injuries, but he had not been able to escape or fight of those five patrolling sentries, who had been just as startled as him, yet with their weapons at the ready.

Damn it. He banged a curled fist into the concrete wall, which made a hollow sound.

No. No, the mission was not over. Captivity was easily broken, but only at the exact right time and moment. Waiting was the name of the game. He grinned in the dark. He'd never been much of a sniper, compared to his regular firearms skills.

He felt a mouse or an rat brushing by his hand, that was planted on the floor. It was fleeing, and he lifted his head to where he thought the door might be in the dark. Quite right.

"How're ya holdin' up in there?" ,snickered a soldier from the other side of captivity. Freedom's side.

Snake slid down, from leaning with his back against the wall, to lying with only his head being supported against it, his body limp. He went completely silent.

"Hey hey, least ya could do is answerin' me! It's damn lonely out here, and freakin' cold to boot...all I have is you. Hah! Don't get me wrong, you. I'm no fag..."

His arms were hurting, and he worryingly felt how his pulse throbbed violently. His jugular wouldn't be visible in this kind of darkness, but-

"Hey, mission-man?" Finally, the guy was starting to sound genuinly worried. So, they did have the order of keeping him alive. Just as he'd thought. "Damn it, ya not sick, are ya?"

Keys were rattling frantically and the door that kept Solid Snake from his objectives were opened, sending in a bright ray of light that he tried his best to ignore, a difficult task even with his eyes shut tight. "Holyshit!" He had just enough sensitivity in his body to realize just when, the unknowing soldier had his hands stretched out over his torso to-

It was fast. Their eyes locked for less than a split-second, in which the inferior soldier's pupils barely reacted by dialating. A hard, violent grip on his forearm swung the baffled soldier around and onto his back, where Snake secured his head within his grip. Hardly had he begun protesting to this swift change of positioning, when his neck was snapped; fracturing the vertebrae and the spinal chord. In shorter words: instant, possibly painless, death.

Snake released a mixture of a sigh and a pant, at the same time as he let go of the body. There was no time. He decided it was best to at least make a quick attempt to conceal himself. He did just not have the time left to spend in more captivity, and he was beginning to think that even the stonecold patience that he usually had and took so much pride in, was starting to fail him. Ah -the advantages of youth. He allowed himself the slightest of smirks, stripping the soldier of his snow-camo BDU and cap. It was a tit fight over his more muscular frame, but it could pass. It would have to, for now.

He rose from his kneeling position.

"Did you have fun?"

Infuriated, but at a loss of words, Snake felt a hard boot kicking him in the back, down back on the stone floor of the cell. So close, but so damn far from it too...

"Aw, have a look at that." The booted foot released itself from his back.

The voice, he recognised. Barren, hoarse, venomous. With an effort, he raised his head to meet his villain's. Snake sneered, seeing him bent over his dead comrade.

"Having a blast, it seems. God forbid we didn't get some killing done in the process, right Snake?"

"Cut the crap." Snake growled, as the soldiers behind him guffawed at their leader's comment. "Why not kill me while you got the chance? Might never get a shot that good again." He smirked, without attempting to hide the hints of darkness in his face. The hands that he had held stretched above his head were lowered slowly, to a welcoming gesture; palms showing. "Take it."

"As tempting as that offer might be, I need you without a bullet lodged in your brains." He signalled his troops to lower their arms, still with the sinister grin plastered on his face. "But I know you, Mr. Solid. You'd never give me an offer you seriously thought that I'd take...would you? Ah!"

His smile grew bigger, and suddenly, there was an unmistakable warmth there that Snake felt certaintly wasn't meant for him. His head turned curiously, when a person with almost airy steps carefully paced by him. A scent followed. Slightly flowery. Feminine. Familiar. His heartbeat accelerated, intensified. She was a beautiful young woman, a blonde who looked unhappy and increasingly uncomfortable, even more so when he was captured by a set of strong male hands from behind, and he placed a kiss on her temple.

She examined Snake, and he might have purely imagined it; but it truly seemed to him that her chocolate brown gaze was astounded at the sight of him. Those eyes of her looked just like he felt.

"Missed you, love." As he placed yet another kiss upon her face, his eyes closed briefly.

"Christopher."

Snake made his move. Moving swiflty to his right, he secured a weapon from the nearest soldier, knocking him and two others out in the process. His leg spun around, and it connected with the head of the soldier to the left of him, who had been a few grams of pressure with his index finger from causing Snake certain death. He applied pressure with a knee weighing down on the man's throat, blocking his airway just enough to make him pass out; at the same time firing at, and killing the final numbers, under screaming and a fair amount of blood gushing. Excluding-

He held his gun firmly, pointed at Christopher. That smile of his faded rapidly, as Snake switched tactics. There was no pride in aiming a gun at a defenceless, young woman, but the choices were limited, and so was time. She quivered but maintained and ice-cold stare at Snake, and finally Christopher had given up his increasingly humorless smirk.

"You..."

Snake made no attempt to dwell any further with needless "villain vs. hero" dialogue. He slowly moved sideways towards her, and grabbed her by the arm, securing her within his vice-like grip. She didn't protest while he dragged her out with him, escaping.

He was amazed at how well the girl took the whole situation; being snatched from her lover, dragged off into the unknown, and under a few wakes of gunfire. Even when he had tripped and had extended his arms in front of him in pure reflex to protect himself, she had not made much attempt to escape, other than naturally releasing herself with a tiny gasp. He picked himself up as he teeth-grittingly verbalized his annoyance, extending an arm at her; she obliged with an air of consent surrounding her. Struck with awe, he watched her flush when he swung an urging arm around her waist. Her lips however, remained sealed.

"Wait here." He grunted, his instincts alone telling him she would comply.

Snake examined the wall before him, his fingers searching the surface. The adrenaline kick was long gone, and he thankfully felt how composed he had become. 'crack, riii-'. Snake screwed up his face; the rusty bolts of the air vent safe yielded under a semi-loud, high-pitched sound. A pair of fair hands with slim fingers pressed upon the metal of the air duct.

She didn't utter a word, and it was so strange, seeing her fiddle with the bolts and making much shorter work of them than himself. With those perfect fingernails coated with pale pink nailpolish. 'Damn'.

"Get in there."

He followed right behind her, knife at the ready. He watched her turn her head to him while crouching forward but not even the sight of his blade seemed to make her skin prickle; she simply breathed out and looked at him with an almost childish apathy. His eyes became slits, as his stomach turned itself when he finally realized the evident; she was not a civillian. She was not Madelaine Lovel, unless they'd shoved the poor daughter of a scientist into boot camp prior to this mission. No chance in hell...

They dropped down into what seemed to be a storage room; it was gloomy and smelled dusty with that unmistakeable hint of metal from guns. Barely had she wiped dirt off of her white skirt, before Snake pressed her up against the wall, blade prickling the soft, white skin of her throat. She heaved, her eyes forcing themselves into his. Snake's mouth was inches from her ear; at any rate she was breathing heavily and shaking so surely she was far from completely unaffected?

"Your name. Real name. Now." Snake hissed into her ear.

Her hair fell into her eyes, and she blinked almost panickly while exhalerating at a much faster rate. A smile was born on her lips, and she giggled. "I didn't realize I was that well made-up." The giggle grew into laughter; Snake tensed. Disbelief hit him in his face harder than a well-placed punch. The blade drew only the slightest drop of blood, still Meryl's yelp shocked Snake as if he'd shot her in the head by accident. "Damn!"

"You,"

"Shh-"

"Bastard." She mumbled, narrowing her eyes at him. He applied pressure with his thumb at the tiny spot on her neck, shooting a look at her saying: "Don't go there."

Why was it, that he couldn't help but smiling as he observed her slide down the wall? She looked nothing like herself, but her behaviour was that of Meryl's for certain. It was a different color of those eyes, but they were just as youthful, insecure and inquiring as he remembered them. He could barely register any emotion by the sight of her; not that this was new or that he was unconcerned, but distancing himself was simply the key to keeping himself sane over the years. That kind of attitude had affected his personal life as well, helping him build a cold but perfectly unshaken world.

"It was my uncle." She said, barely audible. She continued while Snake let out an annoyed grunt while shaking his head. "I was the only one for this mission. He never even mentioned that you were involved." She apologized. Snake sat down against the wall, one knee bent. His face was blank, not looking at her.

"I thought you were dead." It echoed inside of her own head, almost re-convincing her. Having seen Snake standing with his gun held at her, had been like a miracle, stunning and powerful. She was more than happy to find him alive and well, but unable to show so. She dreaded the explanation for his dissapearence, or even more; the lack of it.

"I was."

"So what revived you?" She chuckled bitterly. Why were words starting to taste bad in her mouth?

"Same thing as always." He pointed a finger at where Meryl's FOXHOUND tattoo was, underneath her clothes. She unwillingly grabbed her arm.

"Why?" She smacked a demanding hand down on the floor. "Why do it?"

"I could ask you pretty much the same thing."

"Then; answer me." She cursed herself, for she was going to cry. It was inevitable. "Answer me, and I'll answer you."

She heard him grit his teeth.

"Damn it, Meryl! I'm not here to play these little love games with you! You have no right-"

She rose to her feet swiftly and towered above him with her arms flailing wildly around her.

"Yes, I've realized that Snake! I have no rights at all! But you know what, you're not the one who makes all the rules around here! You think I'm just gonna stand back and not do anything, while you have a go at it, wherever and whenever the hell you want?" She breathed, blinking her eyes wildly to let those burning tears out her eyes; she was not going to look like she was hurt! "I don't even think that you've been able to see anything but what you want, for..." She paused. Could she go there? His face was that of shock, but not surprise. "For your entire life. Dave..."

"You're wrong." He answered her with a very husky voice. He moved slowly, Meryl convinced herself that time itself had been altered. Snake stood up and seemed to examine her at a distance. Then a warmth washed over her, a serene heat of affection she'd missed for almost two years was wrapped around her core, as Snake took her into his arms and tried meeting her eyes. She blocked; she couldn't. She'd see the truth there, and truthfulness was the most scary thing that excisted in her universe. A hand ran through her blonde extensions; with a bit of force it took her by the chin and lifted her face upwards. "Look at me. Look at me..."

His eyes were warm and so perfectly blue. She weeped.

Snake's lips crushed down upon hers with such hunger that she felt terribly insufficient. His hands went down to her shoulders, holding her attached to the spot while his mouth explored hers with a growing appetite. Meryl forgave him; everything he was and had ever done in that instant. When he kissed her, no logic or common sense could save her from giving in to this man. His arms were strong, but so light on her frame, so careful when holding her. When he tenderly chose to break the kiss, she flushed and panted feverishly. Snake stood back, holding her by her shoulders with his arms outstretched, as if to keep her at a safe distance.

"Everything I've done since Shadow Moses was to keep you safe. And now, I find you here, in the middle of a battlefield where I'm not even sure you and I are on the same side. Everything I've lost, I've lost because I wanted to keep you. Damn." Meryl jumped, as he sent his fist into the wall. She flinched; blood trickled between his knuckles. "I even lost you, because I wanted to keep you. I was a jerk."

"Why did you start Philantrophy with Otacon?"

"I wanted to keep going. I needed that part in my life. Fighting Metal Gear..."

"I see why I were not invited. You wanted me...safe?"

"I wanted you out of my life. Don't you see it?" He bit his lip, shaking his head. "Everyone I care about, and who stays around me, dies. Meryl, I've watched more people die than most could endure. But if you died...because of me..."

She remembered, three years earlier on Shadow Moses. Yeah, the way he shook her the instant that she had regained consciousness, and how his face looked beyond recognition; she would never have believed that she would ever see Solid Snake break out in pure panic, a man who'd seen the worst of the world. But he did. She saw the him seeing her as dead; how he could no accept it.

"I don't want you to die. I just can't accept that happening."

What? Her back bumbed against the wall, and she looked at him; questioning. What kind of talk was that, coming from him of all people? Breathing harder, she grabbed onto what wasn't there. She got herself together. Yeah. She knew about him. He His sudden bursts of honesty you would never hear from most men. But it prooved to be without meaning in the end. Wouldn't he always just leave her, anyway?

Or wouldn't she just run, when the raw emotions that surrounded them made her scared, petrified?

Because he wants me alive.

He 'wants'...

How selfish.

Hah,

Just like myself.

"Snake, we can't stay here." Her voice was small, meaningless. Insignificant.

He took a moment before leaning back and then rising to his feet. There was a door there, a door to possible freedom for his part, that had been ignored for the past few minutes, under their first real conversation for nearly two years. "You're right." He pulled out his handgun, flicking off the safety and keeping it trained at the floor. "Got a weapon?"

She reached up under her skirt, unholstering an M1911 .45. "Yeah. I don't have a whole lot of ammo though."

"Really?" He jokingly replied, looking her over. She shot him an angry look, hating the skirt even more than yesterday when she had forced herself into it, cursing the world. "Listen, I won't go with you. I'm undercover and I need to get back to...him. I'll just say that you escaped, leaving me behind," she added impatiently, seeing Snake frown.

"You're going with me." He simply said. He drew his gun, keeping it at the ready as he cautiously pryed the door open. Meryl sighed

"Why won't you ever just listen!" Coming up close to him, she had attempted to point his finger at her, but the moment that she drew it, her freedom was being snatched away; Snake grabbed her arm and held onto it with serious strength and an unmistakeable firmness. He repeated his order to her, completely ignoring the fire in Meryl's eyes. How dared he?

"Listen." It was like a soft whisper, begging. "I need to stay here, Snake. It's my mission, and I understand that you have yours. Just, please..."

Her connection with Christopher was a fragile, yet extremely important bond. He had fallen in love, and when in love, weakness is created. Such an opportunity to carefully unravel, to gently extract information that could possibly aid in saving lives was vital. It wasn't part of her mission to get involved, but she was the only one close enough to the jaws of the enemy to sense it's foul breath.

"Snake, I can get information. Important information." With a pained expression, she twisted her arm in what she knew was a hopeless attempt to break free, and true enough; he did not let go. He just kept staring at her, eyes locked on to where he held her.

"He loves me."

His eyes now darted all over her face.

"I can use that against them."

His grip failed. As she took a look at his hand, she saw the knuckles covered with dried blood. An akward silence of the obvious surrounded them.

"I need to stay here, Snake. I'm going to, no matter what you think or say. I've got a job to do, and -don't you dare calling me too green to do it."

"Let's just go."

"I need to hear it from you; I need to hear you say that you will not try to stop me!"

"I can't say it."

She sighed, arms falling to her sides. "Fine. I'll just kill you if you get in my way."

He chuckled, sensing the irony in the words, that sounded so familiar from what felt like so long ago.

Meryl looked on as Snake shed the BDU. He threw it while releasing a sigh, strecthing his body.

Obviously, she was still his 'hostage', she thought and made a very unsatisfied grimace. She was on a battlefield, and what was she doing here? Wearing blonde extensions and brown stockings, being held from doing her job by a man she had loved and had thought was dead for what seemed like a short eternity. She threw a cuss at Snake, who was now too busy conversing over his codec to take notice of her.

It had never quite struck here before that instant, but he seemed so incredibely detached. How was he able? Sure, a fair amount of it was highly recommended in order to get by, if you did not wish to be consumed whole by those gruesome inner demons. One kill. Two kills. A hundred men dead. One-hundred and fifty. For each came a nightmare, and by each nightmare the angst and pains doubled. The seeped into every corner of your being, toying with you mentally and physically. You would never be left alone again, once you had taken part in bloodshed. Yet Snake's face was always perfectly still and confident. Did the demons haunt him as they did her? She couldn't help but wonder, if that scarred, calm facade had a whole different layer underneath, a layer that was hurt and in constant, controlled agony. Did he wake up pointing an invicible gun at an enemy created by his own angst in the latest of night?

He lacked reaction, emotion. Life. But she could never care for him any less, even having realized that. He was still Snake. Snake who had saved her, Snake who had done so much to assure her safety.

"Where are they keeping it?" He had disconnected from his call. "The weapons."

"I heard a sentry talking about a section B-3."

"Good news. We know where they're keeping them." He allowed himself the slightest of smiles

"Well, yeah." Her tongue licked the back of her front teeth; it was yet another old habit whenever she became worried or nervous. "Even if they're there, it'll be some way from here I think. B-3 is located on an different island. About half a mile south of this island."

"Damn." He cursed through a tight jaw. That has got to be his favorite word, Meryl thought. What's wrong with 'fuck' or 'shit'?

"It's not that far, but it's freezing outside and the water will be even worse." Meryl felt goosebumbs all over, as she stated the obvious.

"There's no way in hell we can just plunge in and go for a swim. We need something; a boat."

Mery sighed yet again.

He pulled out a pack of Malboro's, picking one out and lighting it. Meryl flinched at the scent of tobacco; she had decided to quit not long ago, and while she wanted to be desgusted, the scent was soothing and tempting.

"Put that thing away" She groaned.

He sneered, but did as he was told. "Odd chemistry, huh?" She found herself musing, but she did not laugh. Tiredness was starting to knock on her eyelids; it felt like someone was trying to squeeze her face to fit inside a tiny metal box. There wasn't a doubt in her mind that she was showing it, and she did not care.

He seemed intent on her. "You should lie down." He noted. His fingers fiddled at his pockets; those smokes seemed to be on his mind still. She smiled at him. "It's not the time for sleeping, I'll be alright."

"We should get going, the sooner the better. The more tired you get, the slower you'll react. Each second counts out there." He made a gesture towards the door, and she nodded in agreement. Oddly enough, she felt shamed. She rose to her feet, following him to the door.

They carefully stepped out; the hallway was wide and thankfully empty. Snake took lead, training his gun and doing a quick sweep of the floor. She followed closely behind, back turned against him as she made sure they would not recieve any nasty surprises from their back.

There were scents all around them; raw and sweaty. Nothing was glamorous about this building; from the aged, yellow lightbulbs in the ceiling that were coated with what seemed like nicotine, to the fading wallpaper, that was scratched and in some places there were spots of blood and piss. A few half-dead ferns had been brought in, perhaps someone on this island who actually had a soul had at least made an attempt at bringing life into the place. They did little to decorate though, and just looked sadly comical in their blue and yellow polka-dotted pots.

Snake raised his left hand over his shoulder, making a gesture she recognized as him wanting her to follow very closely. She closed the little space that had been between their bodies. Her heart raced.

A noise from behind them, just as Snake opened the door before him, made Meryl jump. She thought of drawing her gun, but was it really necessary? She hadn't blown her cover, right?

Talking. Snake hastily went through the door, closing it behind him.

Not properly, though.

The soldier emerged seconds later; he nearly walked right into the wall before him, at the sight of Meryl alone. Her instincts told her to smile, and he mirrored her, asking her if she was lost. Meryl's smile grew even wider.

"No, no. I was just going to the bathroom. I'm still not used to this place, I guess."

The soldier shifted his weight. "It's not through that door, Ms. Lovel. Here, let me show you the w-"

"No!" She swallowed. "No, I'll find my way. It's fine."

His face looked meditative growing increasingly suspicious.

Then, his mouth opened and it looked like he was going to say something; but the words were held back and she feared she knew why.

Snake had come through the door, and just now, had he seen the soldier. Meryl snapped her head around, frightened. She saw that same fright in his face.

For the three of them, it seemed like time had stopped completely along with the rest of the world. No one fired a single shot, nor said a word.

"Paul, for Christ's sake, those stupid boxes are in my way! For the last time, get your -Shiiit!" Everything moved again, when that other person came into the picture, literally shoving everyone into action with a shout.

When the absolute obvious thought of drawing her gun came to her mind; it was too late. While she attempted diving away, she only prayed that Snake had his gun at the ready. She had, however, not expected what happened next.

It was something that anyone would describe as something that only happened "one out of a million times". When Meryl instinctively knew that she had to do a roll away for her safety; Snake had had other plans. He had taken her by the arm, making a move to shove her in the exact opposite direction: and two people aiming to do the same thing ended up preventing it. It was a painfully important second, that could be the difference between life or death. And he knew it.

"Meryl! Damn it, run!"

But she could not. She had her mouth opened wide in pain; a twisted ankle was the cause. She heard Snake firing his gun, once, twice, thrice. They were more? She panted, listening panicly to sounds of bullets connecting with flesh and voices that seemed to be drowning in blood. Her back rested against the wall, as she hurridly traced the hem of her skirt, reaching down to unholster her gun, amazed by herself for not having done so much, much earlier.

The most shocking, immediate pain rushed over her. It was like a wake of fire had coarsed through her, melting her insides. Releasing a scream, she clutched her left shoulder; she had been hit.

She drew her gun; aimed it at the nearest hostile soul and bullet made it's way through his heart; then head. She heard Snake calling her name, and thought that she shouted back to him not to worry, and keep on firing; but she could not hear her own voice. She was getting sweaty all of a sudden.

The second bullet hit her stomach.


	7. Alive

AN: I hate doing ANs, but seriously, this story needs one desperately. This story is _old. _I'm under firm belief that absolutely no one out there is still following and I'm so afraid of the fail that was the first two chapters, that I can't even bring myself to rewrite them. Just keep in mind I started this several years ago. That being said, I do intend to finish this story and without the year long waits in between each and every chapter. This chapters could have been longer, but I wanted it out asap, just to let you know I'm still continuing. Enjoy ;) Oh yeah, and obviously any original Metal Gear characters don't belong to me.

* * *

It was almost funny. The way time passed during sleep, in our dreams: when our careless adventures unfolded and the logical centre in our brain seemed to be napping just as much as the rest of the body. Or immediately following an accident, swaying between life and death. It was almost like a blessing, being sort of "on a break", enveloped in sweet dreams, completely unaware of the body's struggle for its existence.

She had been only a child, barely ten years of age and with more defiance in her spirit than her parents thought healthy fo her. It turned out that they were right; one day she decided she would climb the garden's tallest tree, a majestic oak which she had been spying out every day for years, until she couldn't resist wanting to see the view from its crown. She trudged her way up, clawing the branches with her stubby, eager fingertips, not once being perturbed by the staggering altitude.

She never remembered anything in between the climb and waking up in a hospital bed with a cast around one of her legs. The only thing that remained with her throughout her childhood, was the nostalgia of the countless dreams. There was this most, peculiar and bright blackness and the events of her dreams took place on this backdrop, alive as if her eyes had been wide open. They lasted a lifetime it seemed; normally her dreams would feel like a few minutes worth of hazy and strange events she did not care for or care to remember as she woke up.

When she woke up then, as a child, it had been bizarrely different.

The air she breathed when he batted her eyelashes and opened her eyes was different.

The tingling of her flushed skin against the chilly metal of the bed-frame was different.

The way she became aware of her voice as she spoke to her parents, asking for water, it was_ different_.

Absolutely everything had changed. The world around her as she saw it, wasn't the same and she felt a certain buzzing in her brain, telling her with certainty that it was a point of no return. The dreams she saw had altered her world. The way time had passed in her dreams had left her feeling as if she'd lived a lifetime already.

"Ms. Silverburgh."

Unwillingly, she pushed her eyes open. There was a slightly stingy sensation, possibly from the intensity of several, beaming white lights. Once she could manage what was barely half a squint, she heard an unknown voice to her left let out an almost rudely impatient sigh. If only those damned lights weren't trying to permanently blind her...

"How nice of you to join us." The voice, male and youthful, now only sounded relieved, but with a flat hint of distance to it. A medic?

Without thinking or testing her body's current capabilities first, Meryl swiftly extended a violently shaking hand. She grasped his wrist and he jerked in surprise right as she pulled a blatantly painful grimace - shit,_ that hurt_.

The figure attempted to remove her fingers from him with stoic delicacy and firmness. Her grip had already loosened; her hand fell from his, cushioned by the bed. He cleared his throat.

"I _said_; how nice of you to join us, ms. Silverburgh." He repeated, as if her lack of response meant that she hadn't heard. For a brief moment, she considered responding snarkily, but she cast that idea aside the following moment. Roughly a mere minute had passed, but her eyes had almost grown completely accustomed to the aggressive, white light the room emanated. Her eyes fell upon the man, who was now moving with haste around her body. He gently asked her to lift her head; she obliged, straining her neck a bit as he changed the pillow-case with swift hands.

"My name is nurse Kennedy. I'll just go get a doctor for you, now that you're awake."

"How long-" She started, bringing a hand up to comb through her tangled mess of locks, but nurse Kennedy had already speedily made for the door, out of earshot from her weakened voice. The effort of trying to speak tickled in her throat; she coughed frantically and with disgust, she tasted the distinct, metal flavour of blood. She spluttered a few times at the end of the fit and dropped her head down on the pillow, annoyed to find herself feeling abandoned.

She remembered. Multiple bullets, direct hits. Snake had eliminated at least two of them, then- One of the bullets...had made contact...with-

Meryl drew herself a mouthful of air that reeked of sterility and glanced down her body, not moving a muscle except her neck. Carefully she tried to feel with each intake of breath how her abdomen expanded feebly. With a false sensation of calm, she noted that behind the effect of painkillers, there was an acidic, dull pulsation almost inconceivably noticeable. She huffed, unaware she had held that last breath.

Alive. She was alive.

Outside was a clear blue sky. She knew this before even looking through the window to her immediate right. She heard birds chirping jovially and felt a breeze discreetly caressing the few uncovered spots of skin on her body. It was neither hot nor cold. It was a breathtakingly beautiful day, and though she was far from a poetic person, the melancholy of not knowing what date today was tugged at her heart. It was so serene and she would probably have forgotten it in a matter of days had it not been for the acute surrealism, of thinking she could've died before seeing it. How _unjust_. She frowned, at nothing in particular and yet at absolute everything.

Focusing on something else she turned angry and she forced her fingers through yet another lock. Impossible piece of-

"Ah, Ms. Silverburgh, you've finally come to."

She withdrew her fingers slowly and sat upright in her bed with a little bit too much effort to her body's liking. When the doctor extended his hand, she mirrored this gesture, careful not to show any major signs of weakness. It felt much more painful than it should.

"I'm Dr. Simeons." His voice boomed, with a heavy, British accent, through the room. He was a stocky man, short and with a massive mop of red hair, very much like her own. A brief flashback to dying her hair a rather hideous shade of blonde entered her brain. Oh yeah, right. _That_ happened. She scowled.

"Welcome back from the dead, if one may say so!" He guffawed and Meryl half huffed, half snorted. Doctors and their ability to make one feel like fragile sacks of flesh with their comical detachment. Which, people were, but was there really any need to point that out?

"Yes yes, indeed." He hummed a few notes lightly, flipping through a clipboard. "Close call, Ms. Silverburgh. Close call."

She fidgeted with the edges of the duvet and thought that maybe she was an idiot for not being more concerned with what had went down.

"Penetrating abdominal trauma, followed by severe abdominal hematoma. No injuries sustained to any of your vital organs." He added and had a brief pause to look at her with reassuring eyes over the clipboard. "Ballistic trauma to the shoulder -that'll heal up pretty soon, bullet went right through. And-" He flipped the pages attached to the clipboard back and gave her the most subtle smile. "You've sprained your ankle."

She snorted. "Least of my worries, huh?"

"Oh yes, indeed!" He replied, his smile now far from subtle; he seemed relieved that she'd finally spoken. "I suppose there's no need in pointing out your luck, Ms. Silverburgh. I'm glad they managed to stop the bleeding as fast as they did. Otherwise I'm fairly certain we would not be having this conversation."

"How long have I been here?" She asked, anxiously awaiting a reply.

"Third day today you've been here, Ms."

"_Three_ days? I've slept for_ three days_!" She gasped and pullied herself up even further, grasped the duvet and flipped it off. She planted both feet on the icy floor beneath her, trying to steady herself hastily. The mission. Snake. _The mission_!

"Ms. Silverburgh, please, you musn't!" Dr. Simeon's powerful voice hit her with force. He grabbed her by her arms delicately, yet firmly enough to hold her down. "Do not try to move around too much, think about your wounds! Your ankle is fine at this rate, but your shoulder -no, your abdomen..." He trailed off and Meryl lifted her head and looked over the doctor's right shoulder, as did he.

"I knew you'd be difficult, but please Meryl, have some_ god damned sense_."

The former colonel stood at the door, pausing as if he seemed to think he'd gotten ahead of himself. He stood with both hands supporting his back, his right hand grasping his wrist tightly, more due to irritation, stress and worry rather than his military background.

The doctor retracted his grasp of her and she remained in that spot with her palms pressed down on the bed, ready to lift herself at any moment. She breathed heavily as Campbell finally settled down in a chair, not facing her directly, but still close enough for her to feel aggravated by his presence.

"If I stay here, it means I've failed. I've_ failed_ my mission."

"You can't go anywhere like that. You'll die, and for what good?" He asked her with a deadpan face. His arms were crossed across his chest and she thought he looked like he hadn't caught a minute's sleep for months.

"I can walk just fine!"

He frowned at her and she immediately mentally kicked herself. Of course he wasn't referring to her ankle.

Meryl groaned loudly and threw herself back into the bed.

"I can't stay here. You know that. I'll go_ insane_. I'll go completely, batshit insane."

"I know."

"I hate hospitals. I f-, I can not _stand_ hospitals."

He sighed, relaxing his features a little.

"I know."

The lack of opposition had her searching for words and her face flushed hot with frustration. There was no way she'd let anyone keep her here against her will. One way or another, she'd get out. She propped herself up on one elbow and opened her mouth, but her father cut her off.

"I_ know_, Meryl." He cupped his face in one hand, supporting his upper body by resting his other hand on his thigh. "Can you just be quiet for a moment, please, I-" His voice seemed to crack and a single tear hurried down his cheek.

Her stomach churned uncomfortably. She had no idea how to react to her father, whom she still could not refer to anything else but 'colonel' or 'uncle', sit there and silently shed tears. Dr. Simeons had meant to interrupt their conversation several times, but now he seemed to have given up. He gave a slight sound of dismay, strode out of the room and shut the door behind him without a sound.

Quite a few minutes passed like this. She sat immobilized, unable to speak up. She looked at her dad helplessly and felt an odd, twisted wave of guilt wash over her. Was it not the second time she had been near death within a few years? Both from her own, rash actions and delayed reactions. She chewed on her bottom lip with great annoyance. They may not ever have been communicating well - even worse post-Shadow Moses. She swallowed. She recalled the emptiness of their victory, the quiet, despondent celebration on their success. And when she'd thrown her arms around him, pulled him into her embrace and cried from utter happiness, he'd said it. Just like that, eighteen years of deceit was over and the cards were laid out on the table. When she was the happiest, most radiant and madly in love. Perhaps he could not bear to break the news to her at any other time, fearing her reaction. But she knew, the reception of such news would have been the same, regardless of her current state of mind.

And now this. This was the same, was it not? Her inability to be what he expected her to be and the constant loss for words. If this was going to go on between them for much longer, she doubted she would be the right person for this job, after all. First time she'd tried proving herself to her uncle -dad- in the field she'd sustained horrible gunshot wounds and was subjected to hours of torture. And other things she would definitely not miss if they should ever escape her memory, though she doubted it bitterly.

He did not sob, and the quietness of his tears were soon over; the transition from his sadness to him clearing of his throat completely seamless.

"I'm sorry." She admitted, though her voice didn't indicate remorse of any kind. "And don't_-I know_." She interrupted him with a soft voice, tucking a curl of blonde hair behind her ear. "I wasn't thinking. Which isn't a new concept for me." She added with an honest sigh. "I just don't like being completely useless. I mean, I've failed my mission haven't I?" She muttered.

Campbell rose from his seat. "You've failed your mission, yes. But remember the briefing. We never knew if this would work out."

"But _why me _in the first place? I know I look like her, but this whole thing was completely ridiculous from the beginning! And-"

Snake. She abruptly became aware of her heartbeat. And of something else.

"_Roy_," She hissed tentatively. "If there's something you haven't told me, now's the time to come clean."

"You know I wouldn't-"

"Actually, I think you would. I have a strong feeling that you wouldn't give a damn, daughter or not. It wouldn't be the first time, so why should I believe you?" She let out a shaky breath; that came out a bit harsh. She'd become absolutely livid if she didn't calm herself.

"Because I love you!" He snapped, but he still chose not to look at her. Instead he had fixed his gaze at a spot right next to her face, on the wall behind her.

"Yeah. Yeah, you love me." _Too late_, she thought and shockingly discovered tears were stinging behind her eyes. "You love me and you love my mom. A card here and a letter there. Sometimes a one-armed hug and a birthday gift. Real peachy to feel so appreciated, so invaluable. Don't sit there and_ cry_ in front of me." she herself cried, her emotions spilling everywhere. "You have_ no right_, making me feel like shit for trying my best. How fucking_ dare_ you." Her voice broke; she bit down on her lip and hunched over in pain. Ah,_ shit._

She meant to say a hell lot more and in the end, she'd give him the usual half-assed apology they both knew would only last so far. But her body quivered in agony and she forgot her words again, missions and even Snake for a few moments. And when she finally lifted her head, eyes swimming with tears, he'd pushed the button next to her bed for help and left the room, leaving behind only a single sentence, robbed of any emotion.

"Do whatever you want."

* * *

With his back steadied against a massive concrete wall, Solid Snake took a deep breath, a mouthful of far more oxygen than he needed. Then again, and then a few more times, until he had expanded the capacity of his lungs sufficiently. The final intake was sharper and more shaky than he liked. He screwed up his face; it prickled behind his ribcage with an insisting discomfort. _Nothing I can't handle_. The prickling however, insisted, disturbing his vision just slightly and he felt a slight nausea. He shut his eyes tightly to brace himself against the onset of dizziness and dove head-first into the calm, icy waters.

His estimate of the depth had been _very_ accurate; the visibility was equally manageable. The water around the island hadn't been anywhere near as bad as he'd initially thought. His eyes gave the route ahead of him a quick scan. To his irritation, the large, steel gate that had been blocking his path into the building of his target, hindered his passage below the surface in addition to above. He dismissed rattling the bars of the gate for good measure and swam up, emerging through the surface with a raspy gasp for air, shaking his head methodically. He did not want his hair to freeze in a sub-zero temperature climate. The nanomachines may had been extremely effective for keeping the body adequately heated, but once his fringe was frozen up, it'd be a hell of a lot harder to keep his head warm in this kind of cold. Breathing calmly until he could once again control his lungs, he took a few, slow breaststrokes towards the edge and pulled his body up and out of the water.

Made a lot of sense to keep that place unguarded and not bothering with surveillance, he gathered with an analytic expression. No cameras and not even a single footprint in the snow from a sentry, in spite of what that building supposedly contained. With that kind of protection from possible intruders, positioning personnel here would be a waste. He averted his gaze up and read the sign on the building for the second time since arriving - B-3. This was it, no doubt about it. He looked the sign over a few times, before he settled and rose to his feet, lightly massaging his wrists. If Meryl was right, whatever weapons they had been openly testing out here were hiding within those walls. He raised his head to look many feet above; the walls were far too high to climb and even if he'd had rope, the top was sealed off from intruders with a long, unwelcoming row of barbed wire. So he wasn't going under _or_ over. That limited his choices significantly.

Snake turned around on the spot and jogged back the way he'd came.

Once again at a boathouse, he inspected it with renewed interest. In the waters at the dock where he had left, a single guard was crouching down. He was inspecting the boat Snake had used to reach the isolated island.

He'd expected as much. Unholstering and releasing the safety of his newly acquired M1911A1, he took cover behind a wall, then another, until he was pressed up against the sienna logs that was the boathouse, within the safest distance of the guard. He could take him down in several ways from here, but also run for cover fairly easily, should anything happen to surprise him. His grip tightened around the handgun pointed straight down into the snow. Obviously the guard wasn't making an effort trying to stay quiet; his ransacking was clearly audible and Snake allowed himself to take a moment. He tensed, straightening his neck and spine against the logs and then relaxed, looking straight up into the sky.

It was a perfectly clear day.

_She could be dead._

Stopping his trail of thoughts abruptly before they'd develop into something demanding larger amounts of attention, he inhaled deeply with effort. _No point_. Either she lives, or she dies. Those rules would never change and the chances were the same for everyone who attempted to play this game. She was responsible for her own actions and she'd put herself on the battlefield. War knew few mercies and it almost never were bestowed these gifts upon the same people more than once.

But, she could be dead. _Gone._

A malicious chill that he had not felt for over two years licked its way up his back.

He lowered his head resolutely and rounded the corner of the boathouse, exiting his cover with muted steps. Advancing in perfect harmony with the tranquility of his surroundings, he kept his gun steadily trained at the back of the soldier's head. He stopped when he thought his steps were no longer quiet enough to remain unheard.

"Don't move."

The soldier's body stiffened; his hand stopped and remained suspended in the air. He had been reaching for his rifle. Perfect timing, Snake thought, unable to shake the feeling that he could've been heard and the guard was merely trying to keep calm whilst getting his weapon at the ready.

"On your feet. Hands up above your head, slowly." He demanded with firmness in his voice, keeping his eyes trained rather at the guy's rigid stance than his hands. Some things gave themselves away long before others. "Now behind your head, interlaced. You know the drill."

The sentry followed his directives and Snake systematically repeated a pattern, scanning evenly over his entire body for sudden jerks. The soldier eventually laid flat in the snow, his BDU winter attire poorly shielding him from the direct contact of the chilly surface. Snake kicked his legs slightly apart. "Guns."

"Just the rifle in the boat, ah, an M4, s-sir." Cold and shaken, the guy took a sharp intake of breath through his teeth.

"Sir?" Snake frowned and gave the rifle a quick look. It was indeed an M4. Too much ruckus to be carrying around. "You can drop the formal tone, you and I aren't going to be best friends any time soon. Are there any guns on _you_?" He inquired impatiently, but he was already half-done patting him down, and Snake asked him to roll over to lie on his back straight away. The soldier gulped; Snake's gun was pointing straight into his face now.

"N-no."

"You're pretty stupid if you think you can rely on that thing alone," Snake gave the assault rifle a quick nod. "You must be pretty sure about yourselves out here if you're walking around naked."

"I-I have a kn-knife." The soldier stuttered, avoiding saying anything about his comrades' gear.

"This one?" Snake pulled a blade from its sheath out of the lining of the soldier's pants, about 6 inches long He inspected it with disinterest and gave him a comically belittling look. The soldier swallowed nervously again. Snake tossed the knife into the sea and took a few steps back. He asked the soldier to stand, and he did, never breaking eye-contact with the muzzle of the gun. Maybe he was scared he'd get shot if he blinked.

"I need to find a way into B-3. And you're going to help me."

"_N-no_." The word tumbled out almost like it caused him great, physical pain to say it.

"Why?" Snake decreased the distance between them and the guy whelped. "Looks to me like you don't have a choice here. Either you find a way in there, or I shoot. Don't think I'll hesitate for a second if you're not worth the time." He cocked the gun. "I'm on a very tight schedule. I've been resting up for way too long. One of your _buddies_ shot me. Got me good, that bastard." The last sentence was intended more for himself and he uttered it through clenched teeth. It wasn't even the entire truth.

His gunshot wound had barely grazed his thigh, whereas Meryl had been a sitting duck. Precious minutes were spent watching over her, cursing under his breath for the lack of proper medical supplies, the bad visibility that delayed the helicopter, God and everything else he could possibly think of. There was only so much he could do for her with the severity of her wounds and since she had been out the entire time and never regained consciousness as he was patching her up, he was unsure if she was even still breathing. He couldn't bring his fingers to press that spot below the line of her jaw, yet he still held onto that hand, feeling her long slender fingers and their lack of warmth. He had been incapable of letting go. His fear was that maybe if he did, she would have nothing to cling to and let go. Perhaps he would never feel that hand again or hear her say his name.

Only once the paramedics had arrived and assured him that albeit weak her pulse was still there, did he know she'd at least made it that far.

And, only then did he feel the non-lethal wound on his leg and saw his pants smeared with his own blood.

Adrenaline was an amazing thing.

"I _can't_ b-because I-I don't have the p-permission. B-B-B sections are o-offlimit. To my r-rank."

Snake came around him and pointed the gun sharply at the point of his spine in between his shoulderblades.

"That's fine." He said huskily. "You're not the one who needs to go through. You just need to find me a way in. Go."

The soldier lowered his head slightly, whimpering. "H-how-"

"Your problem, not mine." Snake cut him off with a growl and he pushed the gun so hard into the guy's back, he was forced to stumble forward.

"_Now go_."


End file.
